


Progress

by beren



Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-11
Updated: 2010-05-11
Packaged: 2017-10-09 09:55:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/85936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beren/pseuds/beren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Georg is accosted by a strange man in the airport and then weird things begin to happen involving sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Progress

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Soph for the beta. Not quite creature fic, but close :D

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[category: slash](http://beren-writes.livejournal.com/tag/category:%20slash), [fandom: tokio hotel](http://beren-writes.livejournal.com/tag/fandom:%20tokio%20hotel), [ficfest: mmom](http://beren-writes.livejournal.com/tag/ficfest:%20mmom), [fictype: short fic](http://beren-writes.livejournal.com/tag/fictype:%20short%20fic), [pairing: th - bill/georg](http://beren-writes.livejournal.com/tag/pairing:%20th%20-%20bill/georg), [pairing: th - georg/gustav](http://beren-writes.livejournal.com/tag/pairing:%20th%20-%20georg/gustav), [pairing: th - tom/georg](http://beren-writes.livejournal.com/tag/pairing:%20th%20-%20tom/georg), [rating: r to nc17](http://beren-writes.livejournal.com/tag/rating:%20r%20to%20nc17), [type: fiction](http://beren-writes.livejournal.com/tag/type:%20fiction)  
  
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Georg was dying for a piss, which is why he dashed away from the others as soon as they were off the plane and dived for the men's loo. Since they were still the wrong side of customs in the US and it wasn't as if he was as spottable as Bill or Tom, he didn't bother dragging one of their security with him. He heard Tom yelling something about why didn't he go on the plane, so he gave his friend the finger before disappearing.

It was like any other airport toilet, but at least it didn't smell too bad and he relieved himself quickly. Only when he was washing his hands did he notice the nervous little man in the cubicle with the door open. The way the man was looking at him was a little creepy, so he dried his hands as quickly as possible and went to leave. When something pressed against his neck and hissed, he lurched forward, hitting his head on the towel dispenser and his world went a little hazy and he felt his legs go weak.

"Sorry," a voice told him as he sank towards the floor; "I can't let this die with me."

Georg's head was spinning and for a good few minutes he could barely see, let alone move, all he could do was sit there.

"Georg!" he blinked upwards when he heard Bill's distressed voice.

He had to have been there a while if Bill had come looking for him and he found himself being pulled to his feet by Bill's burly security guard.

"Oh my god," Bill all but shrieked and Georg realised he wasn't the only one who had been on the floor; there was a body behind him.

It all moved rather fast after that, there were police and an ambulance and he ended up in the nearest hospital suffering from concussion. He hadn't seen anything, didn't know why the man was dead and the few minutes before and after he had hit his head were dim in his memory, so he couldn't be of much help to the police. The other man seemed to have died of a heart attack and the current theory was that he had fallen into Georg and caused him to hit his head and there were no suspicious circumstances. Something about that niggled at Georg, but he had a headache from hell and he was tired, so he didn't argue.

They had appearances and a performance to give, so he insisted on going to the hotel as if everything was normal. David put back the appointments for the next day so they could sleep in, Gustav volunteered to stay in his room and make sure he didn't have any side effects from the concussion and that was that; crisis over.

Things didn't get weird until he woke up in the early hours of the morning with a very insistent hard on and a desperate need for something he could not explain. It wasn't completely dark, because Gustav had insisted on keeping the side light on for when he woke him every two hours to make sure the concussion had not caused problems and Georg found his eyes zeroing in on his friend. Gustav was sprawled on the second bed, looking just how he always did in sleep: relaxed and about ten years younger than he actually was and Georg found himself crawling out of bed towards the delicious sight.

He was pretty sure he had never found Gustav delicious before, but his psyche was very insistent on the matter and he was still half asleep, so he didn't even try to fight it. Sight, smell, a certain taste in the air; he wasn't sure what was drawing him, but he couldn't resist.

Gustav had the covers pushed back; he was one of those people who was always warm and the duvet was only wrapped around his legs. That gave Georg a very complete view of the whole of his friend's torso and hips and, under the loose boxers, there was a familiar bulge. It seemed he was not the only one with a case of early morning wood and for a moment he almost reached out and touched. However, that was one step too far and he resisted.

"Gustav," he hissed at his friend and Gustav twitched, but nothing more. "Gustav," he tried louder and shook his friend's shoulder.

This time Gustav mumbled something and then opened his eyes, blinking up at him.

"Is something wrong?" the drummer asked sleepily, shifting a little in the bed.

The fact was, Georg hadn't thought that far ahead and he didn't know what to say. 'I have a hard on, you have a hard on, we need to do something about it' didn't seem quire the right way to go about it. For a few seconds he just stood there awkwardly and Gustav frowned at him, but gradually Gustav's expression changed. At first his friend appeared confused and then a little shocked and slowly that morphed into something Georg couldn't quite define.

"Umm," Gustav said, squirming a little where he was lying, "I ... that is ... ummm ..."

It should have shocked Georg when Gustav suddenly shoved a hand into his own shorts, but the moan of abject pleasure that came from his friend rather undid most of his thought processes. He felt a wave of pleasure rush through him as Gustav stroked himself and any ideas about why this could be a bad plan vanished from his head. Gustav was not hanging around and seemed to be chasing the goal as quickly as physically possible and Georg couldn't help himself, he slipped his hand into his own boxers and joined the party. The overwhelming arousal that this caused sent him to his knees, but he didn't care. The closer Gustav got, the closer he got and he was barely even touching himself. It was almost as if his nervous system was connected to Gustav's and his friend was driving them both on. His whole attention was on Gustav and he needed to see and hear and smell as much as he needed air; he could not look away. When Gustav came, so did he and the most wonderful tingling sensation followed his orgasm as it ripped through his body. It was breathtaking, literally, and he was left gasping and shaky. That was also when his brain decided to re-engage and he looked up to find Gustav just staring at him; clearly at the same point.

"What was that?" Gustav asked pointedly.

It was more than obvious that their behaviour was not normal. They'd jerked off together before, but that had been as teenagers playing games; this had been nothing like a game.

"Um, concussion?" Georg suggested hopefully.

"That might explain you," Gustav replied, "but what about me?"

Georg had no way of answering that, even though it was a valid question.

"Momentary insanity brought on by stress?" he said, not believing it in the slightest.

"We have been working too hard," Gustav said and Georg breathed a sigh of relief as Gustav jumped for the explanation that they both knew neither of them believed.

"Way too hard," Georg acknowledged with a nod. "I'm just going to go and use the bathroom and we can pretend this never happened."

Gustav just nodded and Georg decided to hurry so that they could just forget anything weird had gone on. He even managed to get some more sleep eventually and the next day Gustav did a very good impression of someone with partial amnesia and everything carried on as normal. They did the interviews and an acoustic performance and everything was fine, until he had to use the loo while at the TV studios where they had finished their performance and Bill sent Tom with him to make sure he wasn't accosted by any more strange men. It was always better to humour Bill in these matters, so Tom dutifully trailed behind him and went to one of the other two urinals while Georg used the closest one.

He had finished and washed his hands when he felt his cock twitch with interest and he turned to realise Tom was still standing there.

"Tom, you coming?" he asked, even though he had a rather strong suspicion what was going on.

All his senses were focusing in on his friend and he recognised the feeling. There wasn't anything he could do about it, but he had a strong suspicion it was the same as the previous night. It was a bit like being in a dream as he turned, flicked over the lock on the main door and then walked up behind Tom. Now he and Tom had done a bit more than just wank off together in the past. It had been experimentation on both their parts and they had both decided that friendship without benefits was a far better idea, but it made Georg bolder than he had been with Gustav.

"Need a hand?" he asked, well aware that Tom had not yet responded to him.

"I..." Tom said, clearly confused, but sounding very turned on.

"Really, really need to get off," Georg finished for him and deliberately looked around his friend to where Tom had a very healthy erection in his hand.

Unfortunate erections were a fact of life and often a source of amusement, but Tom looked anything but amused. Georg could feel the need building in him again and he very much wanted Tom to give in, but Tom was wide awake, not half asleep as Gustav had been and his anxiety seemed to be getting the better of him.

"Let me help," Georg offered and carefully reached round, closing his hand over Tom's and carefully pumping it up and down.

Tom gasped, but did not resist, which Georg took for permission and set his sights on making Tom come as soon as possible. He could feel his own cock hardening in his jeans and this time he didn't even need to touch it. He pushed Tom on, holding his slender companion with one arm and pumping with the other and he could taste the orgasm coming before it hit. Tom bucked and shuddered against him and he shot his own load in his shorts and the tingling was back, only this time it felt even better. He felt amazing, that was until his brain clicked back in and he realised it had happened again.

"Oh god," he said, releasing Tom and stepping back, "it happened again."

When Tom finally looked at him, his friend appeared anxious and confused.

"Georg, what just happened?" Tom asked, sounding just as bemused as he looked.

"I don't know," Georg said, just a little bit afraid that something bad was going on; "but it happened last night too, with Gustav. I think it might be me."

He didn't know what to do or say; this didn't seem normal. Surprisingly Tom did not make accusations or anything dramatic like that, in fact he tucked himself back into his pants, washed his hands and then dragged Georg back to the others without saying anything.

"Gustav," Tom said, pulling all four of them into a little huddle, "what happened last night happened again. When we get back to the hotel we need to figure out what's going on."

Bill looked confused, but seeing Tom's serious face did not leap in with a million questions and Gustav looked surprised, but nodded.

"Tell me when we get there," was all Bill said as they were ushered to their ride by security.

When he wanted to be, Bill could be the most practical of them all, which probably would have surprised the hell out of most of the world.

Georg really didn't know what to say or do, so he spent the entire journey silently contemplating what the hell could be wrong with him. There was something he was forgetting, he was sure of it, but he did not remember what and for the life of him he could not make himself remember. It had to have been something to do with the incident in the men's room, but it was a virtual blank. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't realise anything was strange at the hotel until someone shoved a badge under his nose.

"F.B.I., Mr Listing," the man in front of him said; "if you wouldn't mind coming with us."

Georg didn't like the sound of that and luckily for him, neither did Bill.

"Why?" Bill said in a tone that dared anyone to challenge him while putting himself between Georg and the agent.

Georg was impressed; Bill was towering over the man and making him look very intimidated.

"The incident at the airport yesterday was a little more complicated than originally realised," the man said, clearly trying to maintain his authority and failing, "and we need to ask Mr Listing some more questions."

"I see," Bill said narrowing his eyes in a way that made the Fed almost take a step back, "well Georg's not feeling very well at the moment. If he's going anywhere, we're coming too."

It was said in such a way that dire things were promised if there was disagreement.

"Mr Listing may have been exposed to an experimental pathogen," the agent said, clearly struggling with the phenomenon that was Bill.

"If he's contagious we're already infected," Bill replied, not even remotely backing down, "and if he's not, we're still coming."

When Bill got an idea in his head that was that and Georg was amazed; rock stars were not supposed to be able to derail government agents. The man sagged in defeat and pulled out his mobile.

Half an hour later Georg was sitting on a gurney, shirtless, as someone ran a scanner over him, while Bill hovered three feet away watching everything very carefully. The others were in a waiting room somewhere, but Bill had stamped his authority on matters and point blank refused to leave Georg alone. Georg was very glad of the company and still amazed that Bill had the F.B.I. bowing to his wishes; it was just surreal.

"The nanites are in his system," one of the people in white coats said after checking a computer readout.

One of Bill's eyebrows almost hit his hairline at that and Georg was probably doing a fair impression of shocked as well; he watched enough SciFi to know what a nanite was.

"Have you been feeling strange over the last day?" the woman with the scanner asked, putting it down and looking him over like some kind of lab rat.

He couldn't help blushing; it had to be a woman of course.

"I'll take that as a yes," the woman said, but at least sounded a little sympathetic. "What I am about to tell you is classified information, but I doubt very much I am going to get a straight answer without explaining something. The man who died in the airport was a UN agent; he was on a covert mission to recover stolen nano-technology from an unfriendly government. He chose to hide that technology in you."

The pressure of something just below the base of his skull and the sound of a hiss leapt into his memory and he suddenly recalled why he had hit his head.

"He put something against my neck," he said as the memory came back; "I forgot after I hit my head."

"Temporary memory loss is not uncommon with concussion," the woman said, patting him on the arm. "Now the nanites have bonded with your nervous system, we can harvest them, but we need to know how they are programmed to know what recall commands to give them. So, what effects have you been feeling?"

It was so incredibly embarrassing, but with Bill hovering there like his guardian angel he told the truth. He tried to hint at what had happened, but the doctor drew out every detail from him before she finally came to a conclusion.

"It sounds like one of the simple programs," the woman said, looking over her tablet PC screen; "stimulation of pheromone production to produce pheromone production in others: seduction 101."

Georg felt like crawling into a hole and disappearing at the matter of fact way the doctor described what he had done to Gustav and Tom. How was he ever supposed to look them in the eyes again?

When the doctor went away and started conferring with her colleagues, Bill sat down next to him and leant against him in silent comradeship.

"Everything's going to be okay," Bill said and patted his leg and he was never gladder to have someone like Bill on his side as he was then.

It turned out that harvesting the nanites consisted of blasting him with some kind of EM pulse, which reprogrammed them and then waiting for him to pee them out of all things. Almost as mortifying as explaining what he had done under their influence, but also accompanied by the relief that he wouldn't be doing it again. They were all debriefed and told how important this technology could be to the future of the world and then made to sign N.D.A.s of the very official kind and finally sent back to their hotel. There was already a story being released about the possibility that the man in the airport had been infected with a nasty disease and how it had turned out to be a hoax, but everyone had had to be checked, so publicity was covered and all Georg wanted to do was get some sleep.

There was going to be a lot of talking done, he was sure, but Bill was playing mother hen and shepherded them all to their rooms without letting them get into any deep conversations. Bill even followed him into his room and started fussing.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Bill asked for the third time and finally Georg laughed.

It was that or jump off the balcony to get away from a Kaulitz with an anxiety issue.

"I'm fine," he promised; he just wanted to day to be over.

"Good," Bill said, seeming to finally believe him, "because I've been thinking."

That would normally have worried Georg, but he just looked at his friend questioningly. After the day they had had, nothing could be that bad.

"Don't you think if we're going to deal with this as a band that we should all be on the same page?" Bill asked simply, standing there with his hands on his hips.

Georg wasn't quite sure what Bill was getting at.

"I suppose so," he replied, since this seemed to be important to Bill. "What do you mean?"

Bill stood there for a moment just looking at him.

"Well, I'm the only one you didn't seduce," were the words that made his mouth go dry.

He wasn't sure whether to be afraid or not.

**The End**


End file.
